


Friends in Low Places

by turnitup



Series: Three's Company [2]
Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27994254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnitup/pseuds/turnitup
Summary: Clay's on edge. He feels uneasy and anxious, like he’s unraveling at the seams.
Relationships: Scott Carter/Clay Spenser, Scott Carter/Trent Sawyer, Scott Carter/Trent Sawyer/Clay Spenser, Trent Sawyer/Clay Spenser
Series: Three's Company [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050314
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	Friends in Low Places

**Author's Note:**

> \- TRIGGER WARNING --  
> The following contains content relating to a consensual and explicit sexual relationship between three adult men. 
> 
> If this is something that could be potentially triggering or offensive to you, please do not continue reading.

Clay is on edge.

It’s been a long day. A long month if he was being honest. Rehab, physio and comeback preparation had consumed his life and deployment is nearing faster than any of the team can humanly keep up with. He has been working so hard to meet the doctor’s requirements and show the brass that he was good. That he was ready; and with that comes constant, unadulterated exhaustion. With exhaustion comes testiness and with an attitude comes problems, problems that they are far too touchy to be putting up with.

He feels uneasy and anxious, like he’s unraveling as he desperately tries to relax in his shitty one bedroom apartment. He wouldn’t exactly say he’s needy; he just likes to be reminded that he’s wanted. With the arrangement they have in place, he rarely feels neglected. His brothers are always there for a shoulder to lean on – a game to watch and a beer to drink -but Clay can’t simply slink into the nearest, occupied bed/chair/couch, demanding to be held. However, tonight feels strange. There’s something crawling under his skin, something that makes him insecure, more so than he’s ever really been before. Clay is a confident (cocky) person, easy going and boisterous, but tonight, he feels hollow and so tired.

Deep down, Clay knows what he needs and he’s _embarrassed_. Admitting that he wants help makes him feel so unsettlingly weak. It’s one thing to bask in his own discomfort, it’s another to let someone see him emotionally bare. He was always one to lick his wounds in the privacy of his own company, but he knows that won’t cut it tonight. It’s just that relinquishing control is always the hardest part.

He hasn’t _needed_ anything like this in a while. He’s dealt with stress before but the tightness he’s feeling demands something beyond a nap and a plate of wings. He spends a long time considering when he wants to go as the who is straightforward. When he finally decides, he realizes quickly that he really wouldn’t be comfortable asking this of anyone else.

Nervously, he raises his fist and knocks twice. The response is almost instantaneous, a soft voice calling, “Come in!”

Clay steels himself and walks into the room, shutting the door behind him but not making an effort to go in any further than was absolutely necessary. Metal and Trent are in bed, both dressed comfortably and cuddled up against one another. The oldest was holding up his phone as they watched something, a phone that was half heartedly set down once Clay had entered the room.

“What’s up?” Trent asks offhandedly, eyes still half focused on whatever’s on screen.

Their attention shifts fully, however, when they don’t get a response.

Clay fiddles with the hem of his sweater, eyes anywhere but his two … lovers? Both of whom are still staring at him expectantly. He was sure at least Metal had a good idea of what he wanted, but knowing the eldest, he’d watch Clay squirm for as long as he could before giving into his ill-concealed desires.

“We need your words, Sunshine,” Metal purred, scooting toward the edge of the bed and closer to Clay.

The youngest pouts and stays stubbornly quiet, feeling uncharacteristically shy. He isn’t going to embarrass himself anymore than he already has if Metal and Trent were well aware why he was here. He hasn’t exactly been subtle and he isn’t ready to be laughed at if they’re just doing this to tease him.

Trent hooks his chin over Metal shoulder, partially picking up on Clay’s unusually hesitant behaviour. He tries something else, “Baby, come here.”

Now _that_ Clay is able to listen to, the anxiety crawling under his skin easing up as he’s given a direct instruction. He inches forward slowly, a hand gently circling his wrist once he’s close enough to actually touch. He keeps his gaze attached to his feet but he can tell it’s Metal. He doesn’t need to look up to feel the worry emanating off of the both of them. He wants to curl up and hide all over again.

“Eyes on us. Please.” The request is soft, almost as though Trent is afraid he’ll run off otherwise.

Clay doesn’t obey right away, thinking on it before finally willing himself to look at the couple. There’s no judgement, only fondness and that in itself is enough to make him visibly relax. The elder men look relieved, Metal releasing the younger’s wrist and cupping his cheek instead, letting his fingers drag over his scruffy jawline. Clay trembles.

Before he’s fully able to process what’s happening, he’s being tugged down onto Metal’s lap, eventually being situated between the eldest’s long legs, back to his chest. Their limbs were sprawled awkwardly but comfortably over the bed. He lets out an initial yelp of surprise but settles quickly, a squeeze being given to his hips in standing of an apology. It’s not needed anyways— it’s no secret that he enjoys being manhandled.

Trent smiles slightly, “That’s our good boy, listening so well,” he starts, watching the way Clay’s eyes grow a touch hazy in response to the praise, “Are you ready to tell us what’s wrong now? What does our pretty baby need, hm?”

Clay’s cheeks begin to grow pink as he squirms. After a moment, he gathers his courage and takes a deep breath, “Want…I need… help. Love. Attention. Your attention. Please.”

He grips Metal’s sweatpants to reinforce that he needed them _both_. The arms around his waist tighten in response.

“Our Sunshine wants attention?” Trent coos, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he slowly slides forward, sandwiching Clay between two warm bodies, “What kind of attention, baby?”

Clay nearly whines, his cheeks growing pink both due to arousal and embarrassment. He uses his free hand to grasp at Trent’s top, urging the older closer.

“T-touch. Me. Touch me. Please.”

Trent hums before reaching forward and gently brushing his fingers through Clay’s hair. He meets Metal’s eyes for a second and sees the same concern reflected in the eldest. He’s about to speak up when Metal cuts in, threading his fingers through Clay’s.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” He asks softly and immediately feels the youngest tense against him. He squeezes his hand and that’s enough to make Clay calm just slightly, “Do you not want to talk first?”

They can both sense that something is wrong; the last thing they want is to get too ahead of themselves and hurt a fragile Clay, especially when he’s already clearly upset about something.

Clay is fraying at the corners, not liking the emotional turn the conversation has taken when he _finally_ had been getting somewhere. So, he keeps it simple, “Talk later, need you now.”

It’s the desperate edge in his voice that indicates to Trent exactly what the younger wants from them. Bravo had come to be attuned to each other’s individual needs over time, Clay was no exception. In fact, Trent would argue he was one of the easiest to read.

He chuckles and slips his palms under Clay’s sweater, pressing them to his waist before murmuring, “We can do that for you, baby. We just need you to use your words, okay?”

Clay nods.

Trent raises his brow.

“Y-yes, Trent,” the youngest is quick to correct himself. The proud smile that spreads over Trent’s face makes his chest feel tight.

A kiss is dropped to his lips, “Good boy.”

Clay shivers and swallows thickly. In the end, it’s consistently the praise that makes him slip the fastest and his loves are well aware of this.

Then, the older’s hands are moving up further, calloused thumbs sliding over Clay’s nipples. He jerks, a soft whine falling from his lips; he feels over sensitive already, more than receptive to everything Metal is giving him. Still, it’s not enough.

Clay raises his hips experimentally, pressing his crotch right to Trent’s thigh and chasing that friction he so desperately craves. He moans properly now, head tipping against Metal’s shoulder as the oldest mouths lazily at his neck. He knows there will be marks tomorrow, marks nearly impossible to hide. He’s oddly at peace with the idea.

“Oh? So, this is what our baby wants from us,” Trent plays innocent as he rubs back against Clay’s half hard dick, helping the younger rut against him, “Do you need help, Sunshine?”

Clay’s face feels as though it is on fire, mortification burning in the pit of his tummy. Still, he can’t find it to stop himself, subconsciously tugging at Trent’s hoodie.

Trent is charmed. Clay is by no means a small person; he’s not only physically fit but there’s no doubt that he can hold his own as a friend and leader. At the same time, there’s something that makes him look completely helpless when he clings like this, like he’ll break apart if Trent stops touching him.

“Please, please—“ Clay is beginning to babble, “T-Trent, Metal please— need- I n-need—“

Metal shushes Clay, moving his hair back and out of his eyes. He hasn’t said much and he’s content to keep watching- who wouldn’t be? Trent and Clay are beautiful together. His beautiful blonde boys. The elder of the two is watchful and quick-witted, he responds to every gasp Clay let’s out as if his own enjoyment relies on it. Watching him ease the youngest apart is always a pleasure. Clay, on the other hand, is an anomaly. For someone so loud and rowdy, someone confident who demands the attention of any room, he’s an angel in bed. Needy, clingy, almost delicate, and so ready to please.

He’s torn from his thoughts when Clay begins to grind back against him. He hadn’t even realized he was hard to begin with but the younger is making it very hard to ignore now.

Clay is properly subdued at this point. He can feel hands all over him, groping at his sides, his hips, his thighs. He can feel Metal’s thick body against his back and Trent’s hot breath against his cheeks. He isn’t sure where Metal ends and Trent starts and this is exactly what he needed.

They know that Clay will absolutely be able to get off like this, rutting and writhing between their bodies. Quick and dirty. Trent is halfway tempted to leave him be and let him fall apart on his own accord. On the other hand, there‘s hardly any fun in that. Besides, he wants to take his time with Clay tonight. He catches Metal’s eyes and smirks; they’re just as glazed over as Clay’s, pupils blown with arousal.

“G-gonna—” Clay’s wobbly voice is what makes them return to the youngest. Once glimpse and they understand quickly what he’s trying to say, “P-please, oh my g-god— so close-”

Just like that, Trent is lifting himself up and off of Clay, depriving him of something to rub up against. The ever tightening coil in Clay’s stomach fizzles away and he lets out a mournful whine, tucking his face into the side of Metal’s neck as Trent stares down at him. They don’t have to ask to know that he’s feeling shy; Clay never really liked being looked at, especially when he was splayed out and vulnerable.

His straining cock is pressing up against the thin fabric of his boxers, tenting them lewdly. Trent suddenly finds himself wanting them _off_. He’s smoothing his hands over the softly scarred skin under Clay’s thighs, letting his boxers bunch up under his ass before hooking his digits around the elastic hem. He doesn’t have to ask, Clay automatically lifts his hips, still very much hiding away.

“So good for us,” Trent says under his breath, in awe with just how pliant the boy has become.

Trent pulls the offending clothing off in one go as Metal coaxes Clay into a kiss. Clay finds that of his lovers, he likes to kiss Metal the most. The eldest is experienced and a tease. He kisses like he lives life, smooth, determined, and with a stroke of playfulness. He nips but never hard enough to hurt, just tugging lightly on Clay’s bottom lip. It’s enough to make him dizzy.

Clay is so distracted with the way Metal’s tongue feels against his own that he doesn’t notice when Trent slides down his body and between his legs, settling at eye level with his dick. His lack of awareness doesn’t last long and Trent makes sure of it; he wraps his fist around the base of his cock and Clay lets out a choked off groan, breaking the kiss with Metal.

He’d always been an awful multitasker.

“Please don’t tease,” Clay sighs, jutting out his bottom lip in displeasure as he experimentally bucks into Trent’s light grip.

Trent kisses the tip, smearing the liquid beading there across his lips before he’s pushing his tongue out for a little taste, “As much as I love sucking you off, I want to do something _extra_ special for you, baby,” he hums, pulling back and biting his inner thigh, “I think he’s earned it, don’t you think, Scott?”

“I think so too,” Metal breathes out, “He’s been so good and pretty for us.”

Clay lets out a little high pitched noise, near wriggling. They know he loves the praise, even if he gets bashful. He doesn’t need to say anything at all, the way his cock twitches is evidence enough.

Trent hooks his arms under Clay’s legs and pulls him down a few inches so his ass is resting against the sheets and his head is nestled against Metal’s chest rather than his neck. It’s a little awkward but it’s the only way to collectively stay in contact in the way Clay wants. Besides, the youngest doesn’t seem too bothered seeing as he’s preoccupied with getting comfortable again.

He gives Clay’s cock a couple tugs, drawing out the breathiest little whimpers before lowering his head further and pressing his lips to Clay’s perineum. Clay lets his legs fall open more, giving him more space. He cups Clay’s ass and squeezes it appreciatively before spreading him apart and exposing his pink entrance to the cool air of their bedroom.

Then, Trent licks him, flat of his tongue against puckered skin. He’s quick to pull away, blowing on the sensitive skin and making Clay cry out before he’s dipping in again.

“Fuck. O-oh, holy _fuck_.”

Clay jerks again when he feels another pair of hands sliding over his stomach and chest, rolling his pebbling nipples between calloused fingers. Those same hands are sliding down again, fingertips ghosting over the length of his dick as it rests hard against his navel. Metal is such a tease and it drives Clay insane.

That’s when Trent decides to push his thumb in, spreading Clay open in order to ease his tongue in beside it. The youngest muffles a cry against his hand, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his head as he rocks himself down on Trent’s mouth.

He’s not looking away for long before Metal is gripping his jaw and forcing his gaze to the boy between his thighs once more, “Be good and watch Trent eat you out, baby,” the eldest murmurs into his ear, “He looks so pretty, doesn’t he? It’d be a shame for this to go to waste.”

Clay grasps at the sheets weakly, fingers twisting into the soft silk as he tries to keep up. He’s beyond verbal coherent responses; he’s drowning in sensation, every part of his body burning up. He feels someone (Metal, he realizes after a moment) guide his hand to the top of Trent’s head, letting it rest there. The man in question looks up, meeting Clay’s eyes briefly. He can see just how affected he is by all of this, so he tightens his grip.

“Pull his hair, baby, he likes it,” Metal encourages.

The youngest seems hesitant at first, only sliding his fingers through the soft, blond strands on Trent’s head. He’s more petting than anything, fingers spasming occasionally with the urge to urge Trent closer.

Metal isn’t satisfied with the display, growling in Clay’s ear, “Harder.”

This is a clear order and Clay is too far gone to want to be anything other than good. He pulls finally and Trent moans lewdly. He decides he likes the sound, tugging again as Trent somehow grows even more enthusiastic in his actions.

This is when Trent decides to properly begin adding fingers. He slides his index in with little if any resistance. Clay pants. He loves being opened up like this, loves how wet and loose it makes him feel. Trent decides quickly to add two more fingers, confident that the younger will be able to handle it. Clay throws his arm over his mouth and muffles a cry. Metal is quick in making sure his sounds remain unhindered, grabbing his wrist and holding it out of the way.

“Need— n-need to- ah- touch-“ Clay manages to get out, words slurring together

Metal moves into action, hushing Clay softly, “I got you, baby, I got you.” He’s quick to wrap his hand back around Clay’s cock, finally giving him some well deserved relief. The younger is riding the edge and both older men know it, no longer intent on edging him rather bringing him to completion as quickly as possible.

It takes all of 15 seconds for Clay to come, letting out a breathy, high pitched whine between thank you’s and please’s. It’s a beautiful sight, Trent thinks, peering up through his lashes as the younger turns to jelly beneath him. Clay’s fringe is sticking to his forehead, lips wet and kiss-bitten, eyes squeezed shut, and spine arching against the bed. He’s shaking and flushed, mind clearly far, far away. They don’t halt in their ministrations, entranced by the boy falling apart under their fingertips, until Clay is whimpering uncomfortably, twisting out of their hold and away from the overstimulation.

Clay settles once Trent slides his fingers out, humming in approval as Metal begins to card his fingers through his damp hair. His limbs feel heavy and he’s tired, but at least now, he feels sated and… maybe even a little bit loved. He opens his eyes after several more moments of trying to regain control of his breathing, his senses returning to him in short bursts. He realizes he’s being spoken to, gentle praise being whispered into his ear as something cool is pressed to his inner thighs, any unwanted fluids wiped up quickly.

After a few more moments, he tugs on Metal’s arm, the subject in question pressing a kiss to his temple to let him know he’s been acknowledged. He croaks out a quiet, “Water?”

“Way ahead of you, Sunshne,” Trent smiled as he grabs a partially empty bottle of water from the nightstand, helping Metal position Clay more comfortably against his chest before taking his place beside them and holding the water to Clay’s lips. The younger drinks, emptying the plastic bottle before letting out a deep, satisfied huff.

“Thank you,” Clay says, realizing quickly how his statement could be misunderstood before clarifying, “For everything tonight. I uh… really needed that.”

He doesn’t realize he’s doing it but he casts his gaze to his thumbs, fidgeting with them shyly. Metal closes his hand over Clay’s smaller ones to stop him, “You don’t have to thank us for that,” he comforts, shaking his head, “I’m sure I’m speaking for T too when I say we enjoyed that just as much as you did.”

Clay smiles slightly at that, nudging his head back against Metal in lieu of a verbal response before there are two fingers under his chin, guiding his eyes up to meet Trent’s. The older brushes a kiss against his forehead before speaking, “But I do have to ask: what exactly was that? Not that we mind, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” There’s no judgement in his tone, only genuine curiosity and concern.

“I’m just…” Clay cuts himself off when he realizes he doesn’t know what to say. He thinks on it longer, Trent and Metal waiting patiently and without complaint, “I’m tired. I’m really tired. More so than usual.”

When Trent looks at him with understanding rather than pity, he lets out a small, unhappy noise. He hates that either of them know exactly how he’s feeling; he wants to protect them as much as they want to protect him. There’s not much that can be said, the weight of the Trident is enough to wear anybody thin, and as driven as they are, exhaustion is a shared condition. Still, Clay is endlessly grateful for moments like these, the tenderness between what feels like nonstop chaos.

Metal presses his nose to the side of Clay’s neck, nuzzling at him comfortingly, “Well, for what it’s worth, you’re not tired alone.” Trent hums in agreement before curling up against the oldest, tucking his head against his shoulder and lazily draping one arm over Clay.

“We are for you, just as much as you are for us,” Trent adds on warmly.

A sea of butterflies burst in Clay’s chest and he drops a final kiss against Trent’s lips before replying, “Thank you. I know.”

“Good.”


End file.
